


warm night, cold century

by All_Your_Cats_Are_Belong_To_Us (Phoenix_of_Athena), Phoenix_of_Athena



Series: soft omens snuggle house GTA ficlets [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 14th Century, Alcohol, Angst, Bittersweet, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Ficlet, Friendship, Gen, Guess The Author, Hopeful Ending, Introspection, Light Angst, Loneliness, M/M, Melancholy, Middle Ages, Nostalgia, Other, Pining, Plague, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Referenced Bubonic Plague/Black Death, Warning: 14th Century, historical setting, ice ages, no beta we die like procrastinators, pessimism, the things you learn doing fic research, wine during the middle ages was actually quite bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27561154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_of_Athena/pseuds/All_Your_Cats_Are_Belong_To_Us, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_of_Athena/pseuds/Phoenix_of_Athena
Summary: Aziraphale never would have brought it up if he was sober.  And if Crowley had been less intoxicated, he might have realized.  But as it was, the angel and the demon had already gone through a barrel and a half of wine that evening; neither of them had their senses about them, which was why Aziraphale gave voice to the thought at all.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: soft omens snuggle house GTA ficlets [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820752
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #8 "dream"





	warm night, cold century

**Author's Note:**

> For the SOSH GTA event. The prompt was "dream." Max word limit: 500
> 
> Do note the tag for the black death, in case that isn't something you want to read right now.

Aziraphale never would have brought it up if he was sober. And if Crowley had been less intoxicated, he might have realized. But as it was, the angel and the demon had already gone through a barrel and a half of wine that evening; neither of them had their senses about them, which was why Aziraphale gave voice to the thought at all.

“D’you think…” the angel had said, slurring his words as he stared down into his cup, “D’you think that someday… it’ll be better’an this?” He waved a sloppy hand.

Crowley, who was resting his chin against the tabletop, blinked up uncomprehendingly.

“Better’n what?”

 _“This,”_ Aziraphale repeated, frowning exaggeratedly. “The—the cold, and the fighting, and people, and the…the avoiding cities because of the bu—the bo—the, the Black Death. And all the _sneaking._ And things.”

Crowley’s brow furrowed. Things were bad, sure. But right now, he was with Aziraphale. He’d been terribly glad to come across the angel this morning, stocking up on wine. He was definitely enjoying tonight better than he had the entirety of the last ice age, which he’d spent alone. 

Forcing his thoughts into order felt like wading through molasses; Crowley didn’t give it much effort.

“We’re not sneaking,” he finally said.

“We _are.”_

Aziraphale slapped his palm against the table, and Crowley felt the vibration in his teeth. He pried his face off of the surface. 

“Not,” he insisted. “No one’s watching...not us _or_ Earth. If someone was watching...it’d be different, yeah?”

Fortunately for Aziraphale’s muddled thoughts, this was a well-worn argument. He could recite his lines in his sleep.

“A _test,_ ” he said. “For humanity. That’s why.…”

Crowley groaned, taking a long drink of the slightly spoiled wine that Aziraphale had managed to get ahold of. He smacked his lips.

“Don’t care,” he said. “Doesn’t matter. Still bloody sucks.”

Aziraphale raised his cup to that, and they clinked sullenly. 

“S’what I was saying,” said the angel. “Do you ever think, ‘what if it wasn’t like this?’ If Earth was more like Eden...if we...if _we_ were more like then? No...pretending. Just saying what we thought, in the open, on the wall.”

Crowley ran his tongue over his teeth. 

“S’a nice dream,” he said, “but we ruined that, you and me and Adam and Eve. Earth’ll never be Eden, and humanity’ll never be so un—so ig—so— _free_.”

“But you and me?” Aziraphale said, locking eyes with Crowley with sudden intensity. “You and me? Could _we_ ever be free...could we ever spend a whole ice age together? You’ll leave in the morning, and I….”

Crowley looked down into the murky depths of his wine.

“I... hope so,” he admitted.

They would continue to drink through the night, and talk would move to other things. When the time came to part ways again, they’d both pretend not to remember what was said the night before, but they’d dream, and one day, they _would_ be free. 


End file.
